Song To Make You Stay
by Never.A.Morning.Person
Summary: You want your things weak and not broken, and you can't tell sarcasm from I love yous to save your life.


**A/N: **For Nobody's Normal. Because she's who she is.

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><p><strong>Song to make you stay<strong>

The thing is, you never really wanted me, I sort of just happened. You never sought for me and I don't think you'd die for me- and I'd be insulted if I didn't know you would die for the most insignificant of people. You don't love me, or you do, but it seems it's accidental, the side effect of some potion that will wear out if you just wait enough, and whoops, sorry love, I'm back to normal now, I don't want to kiss your fingers anymore.

You kiss my fingers.

It broke my heart the first time you did it and I went out to kill something, anything, because I was mutating, I could feel my skin tearing up, my ribs shifting to accommodate you. You'll have to agree, I've changed so much. I never thought I'd ever feel the need to check your temperature, but now it's hard to even breathe without you. The swelling of my heart is making my lungs malfunction, I knew and I know you're bad for me, but look at me, I'd OD on you if I could, if you'd let me, but you have that thing about saving people and you'd never break my skin again- not after that one time.

Sometimes I look at the scars and get all Shakespearian about them, think they're made out of moonlight or silver, and that they'll serve as a link to you long after you go, a secret charm to let me know you're breathing and miserable. Sometimes I'm realistic and think they're just plain ugly, and thank god for shirts. You hate them, I can see it, but I don't understand why. I don't regret things, but it seems it's your hobby, and these silver lines are the only proof I have of you ever being around, so I think I'll keep them, thank you very much.

When you smile at me it's confusing. Beautiful, yes, but it puzzles me, because it defies gravity and other laws of nature, like how we never should have been drawn to each other, like how I should have never held on to your waist. When you smile I think we're perfect for one another, we're mirror images of the same flawlessness, royal colors and shining eyes and graceful bones.

So it's ok if you trip on your feet once it a while, I'm stunning enough for the both of us and if my voice is toneless, what I lack in light you make up in fire.

We fit.

But don't think I don't know I'm a satellite.

This is why you'll leave one day, you know. Even though you make me cinnamon tea and buy me books, Harry, you'll walk out that door because someday you'll see. That when you leave the room to go to the loo everything goes black, and I just sit there in the dark with my knees to my chest. I've been stealing sparks from you for years, I've been living off your halo, and I hated you for it when I was younger and braver but people change and compromise and now I use my hands to cling to you too.

I'm damaged since birth you see, and I have an appetite for irony, but you want your things weak and not broken, and you can't tell sarcasm from _I love yous _to save your life.

Remember, you were so surprised that first time I told you, it was raining and your face went completely blank. I laughed- it was genuine, you're the only one that amuses me this much. The window was large and moist behind me but I leaned against it with my arms across my chest and said it again, _I l o v e y o u, _enunciating and showing you my teeth and you squirmed in your chair and said _quit playing with me._ Well I had to kiss you then.

You haven't said it back. I thought the roles would be reversed, but I've never cried crouching outside your hospital room, so perhaps they are as they should be.

You had wiped your eyes before walking inside that day, but they were red and frantic and I remember thinking, oh the poor little fool, why did he have to fall for me too.

Because I loved you and I wanted to save you from us.

I held out my hand for you and you took it- I never said I was good for you, and I never said I'd help you quit me.

So when you do it, you'll have to do it on your own. I'm not offering any assistance, Potter, oh no, I was born to suck bruises on your neck and make your life difficult, so when it's time for you to go I'll tell you I love you again and kiss you blind.

I don't play fair.

You don't either, see, today you brought me roses and cake and pressed your forehead to mine, so I had to kneel at the foot of the bed to wrap my arms around you, press my nose into your chest and imagine I couldn't hear the ticking clock anymore.

You don't _fucking_ play fair, Potter, and on days like this you help me delude myself even though it's raining and the roses weren't quite the correct shade of blood-red.

On days like this you smile and kiss my fingers and make me think you'll stay.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


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